


The Things We Don't Mention

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:43:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: shoot prompt- after Shaw is found and brought back, she acts as if the kiss never happened and treats root worse than she did before she was taken. root doesn't know what she did or what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Don't Mention

_We found her. Thank God- whatever God there is- that we found her._

Root’s thoughts are running themselves in circles, trying to wrap her head around all that’s happened. The morning was the same as the rest, but by the last rays of sunlight everything was different. Even she felt different. She felt… whole.  _Whole_ , she decides with a small smile, looking down. _Whole_.

She watches the steady rise and fall of Sameen Shaw’s chest, and hears the crinkling of her paper dress. Her eyes slip to her lap, where Shaw’s head rests on her crossed legs. Her eyes are closed, lips slightly open; face peaceful. Root was worried- when she first saw Shaw. A small frame on a white cot behind a thin, glass wall. She called out. She called out to nothing. And that silence, the lack of any response, sent fear coursing through Root’s veins and left ice in her heart. But the despondency was due to a drug- it was better than death. And now- sitting in the open back of their get-away van- there is nothing but relief in Root’s eyes.

She swallows hard, feeling tears glisten in her eyes, but doesn’t dare let them fall.  _She’s safe. You don’t need to cry_ , she reminds herself, smile widening. She takes her hand and brushes back some of Sameen’s hair, playing with it between her fingers before placing it back down gently. Softly, as if Sameen is fragile glass, and even a bump in the road could shatter her completely. Root settles her hand on Shaw’s shoulder, eyes glued to her face.

"How is she, Miss. Groves?" Harold asks from the passenger seat of the van. He shuffles, and Root can feel his eyes on her.

* * *

 

Not looking to him, she replies, “She’s okay.” The words bring a toothy grin to her too-long distraught features.  _She’s okay_.

"Good thing." John replies from behind the wheel, flashing a quick look at the two brunettes in the rear view mirror. "If we’d have found her hurt, she’d probably kill us."

Root gives a small laugh. “She’s going to kill us anyway.” Her eyes are fond as she runs her fingers in light circles around Shaw’s collar bone. “We took too long.”

"We did try our best," Harold adds, looking back to the windshield. "And I’m sure the rap sheet of mayhem we’ve caused will count for something."

The van pulls to a stop, and the doors open to a busy New York night. Horns honk and people laugh; sounds of normalcy. John opens the back doors to the van, and they swing open fluidly. Root looks up at him, and they share a warm smile. She pulls Shaw up to a sitting position, arms wrapped around her waist. She stops a moment, nose pressed to Shaw’s neck, and is hit with another wave of relief.  _She’s okay._

John reaches in to grab Sameen from the car; Root- reluctantly- relinquishes her grip. Reese takes Shaw carefully into his arms, then stands up straight. Root follows, closing the Samaritan van doors behind her. Walking down the street, she comes across two college students. Slipping the keys out of Harold’s pocket, she sneaks across the sidewalk to them.

"Hello, boys," she greets them with a provocative smile. John and Harold stop to watch her. The two college students look at each other with wide eyes and goofy smiles.

” _Woah,_ " the one says to his friend as they look back to Root. She dangles the keys in front of her face.

"There’s a van down on seventh street," she tells the gawking boys with a smile. "Wanna do me a favor?"

The two nod eagerly. “Take it for a spin. Only one rule: don’t return it.” With that, she tosses the keys into the air, and they scramble to catch them. As she walks away, the two watch her rejoin John and Harold.

” _Dude_ ,” the second guy says as they start walking towards seventh. “She was  _hot._ ”

_________\ If Your Number’s Up /_________

Shaw stirs, her head feeling like lead and mouth dry. Her ears are the first to awaken. They listen to the surroundings: the hum of electricity; the lapping of a dog at a water bowl; distant, muffled voices arguing. Then, her senses: she feels a hard surface on her back, masked by something thin and soft; a pounding headache; and a nagging pang in her right arm. Her eyes follow, as they slowly push open. She blinks a few times, then looks around: metal walls met by Plexiglas windows; long poles and plastic chairs; and three people. Finally, Shaw’s mouth awakens, and a low, pained groan escapes between her parched lips.

Instantly, the three people across the subway car throw their eyes to her. A woman comes first, rushing, and as she comes into focus, Shaw realizes who she is. Root drops to her knees next to Shaw, eyes filled with excitement. Shaw sits up on her elbows, ignoring the pain in her head.

"Sameen, are you-"

"I’m fine," Shaw responds blandly, cutting Root off. Shaw feels elated at hearing her voice- it’s overwhelming. However, she shows nothing and remains cold as stone. She looks up as John and Harold come to her side.

"Lionel will be here shortly, I just called him." Harold informs Shaw, as if she couldn’t be satisfied until everyone crowded. Yet, seeing everyone once more, she feels a surge of appease. Shaw merely nods.

"Got any water?" Everyone stops, entranced at her words. John is the first to respond, and reaches to the chair behind him. Turning back to her, he hands her the bottle. She grabs it, taking a deep drought. Looking over, she sees Root’s eyes fixed on her, a joyous smile on her face. Shaw puts down the water. " _What?_ " She asks indignantly, and Root’s smile falters at her venomous tone.

"Just happy you’re back." Root replies affectionately, and Shaw rolls her eyes.

Extending a hand to John, Shaw says, “Help me up.” He complies, and she pulls herself to a standing position. Root follows, grabbing a stack of clothing and holding them out to Shaw.

"I stopped by your apartment earlier," Root explains, "I didn’t think you’d want to wear the dress all day."

Shaw looks down, realizing her attire for the first time. Angrily, she rips the clothes from Root’s hand and walks to the back of the subway car. The men turn, walking out to the computer desk. Shaw fumbles with her fingers, tearing at the material and groping for the strings tying on the dress. Root watches for a minute, amused.

"Need help, Sameen?" Root asks, savoring the moment with a smirk. Shaw turns her head to face Root, her cold eyes taking the smile from Root’s features.

"I’d rather be back in the hands of the enemy than to enlist  _your_ help.” Root is stung by the words and, angling her head down slightly, she walks out to accompany John and Harold. With one look at her, Harold gives her a sympathetic look.

"She has to adjust." He reminds her; she nods.

"I know, Harold," she sighs, looking over her shoulder in Shaw’s direction. Looking back, she continues. "I’m just wondering how long that will take."

"She’ll come around," John tells her with a confident smile. Root gives him a grateful look in return.

Coming from the car, Shaw steps out in her normal attire. “Got any food around here?” Her casual tone is two parts lying and three parts calm calculation, but she pulls it off almost effortlessly. Harold bends down and pulls out a thermal bag. He reaches in, and comes back with a sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"You can thank Miss. Groves," he says, handing her the package. "She insisted that I go out at 4:30 am, just in case you awoke." She stops ripping open the paper at his words. Shaw looks over to Root, then lifts the sandwich up to eye level and back.

"Thanks,  _Harold_ ,” She says, eyes of stone on Root. Then, she finishes unwrapping the sandwich, and starts to indulge.

"Mr. Reese, Mrs. Groves? Are you ready to go? You’ve stayed for the time you’ve asked." Harold tells them, as they stand. Shaw realizes this must have been the argument she woke up during. Swallowing another large bite of her sandwich, she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.

"Count me in," she says, walking forward.

” _Sweetie_ ,” Root’s voice is sympathetic and slow, trying her best to easily talk down the lion. “You just got back. Maybe you should rest?” Her question isn’t such, but more of a demand with a question mark. Shaw rolls her eyes, ignoring Root’s proposal.

"We’ll meet up with Lionel on the way," John informs them as the three head out. "We can start from there."

_________\ We’ll Find You /_________

After being filled in on the mission and reunited with Lionel, Shaw looks around, breath frosting the air. She’s fatigued, frustrated with Root, but bottling everything deep within.  _They will not take me off this_ , she tells herself for the umpteenth time, _I belong here_.

John gets a call, listens, and then sighs. “Yeah- yup; be right there,” he drones with little interest, then hangs up. “The job calls, Lionel. The one that actually pays us.”

"Is it important?" Fusco asks in annoyance.

"If you like your career," John replies with a smile.

"We have this covered," Root assures John, and the detectives grudgingly wander off. Once out of sight, the two women begin to walk. Shaw looks straight ahead, eyes stern. Root watches her, the silent tension winding her down until she can stand it no longer.

"Is everything alright with you? You seem… different."

"I’m _fine_ , Root,” Shaw replies blandly, still looking straight ahead. Root thinks a moment, waiting for the right words.

"Do you remember what happened before you… before you were shot?" Her voice is cautious, but her eyes are dying to know. Shaw lets out an annoyed sigh.

"Sure, Root, why?"

"I have a, uh, I have a question." Root looks to her feet, suddenly sheepish. With Shaw’s cryptic tone, there is no predicting the outcome.

"I’m waiting."

"What did it mean?"

"What did  _what_  mean?” Shaw asks, annoyance evident as she stops walking to look at Root with frozen eyes. Root licks her lips, no more skirting around this.

"The kiss."

"The  _kiss_?” Shaw scoffs, looking away with cruel amusement. “It meant ‘get out of my way.’ It meant ‘I could care less how to push you so long as it worked.’ It meant  _nothing_. It  _never_  happened.”

 _It never happened._  Root feels a stabbing pain in her heart, and the prick of tears welling in her wind-cold eyes. “I-…” She looks back down to her feet, nose twitching and mouth held tight. She takes a slow, shaky breath. “..Oh.”

Shaw looks at her a moment, how deteriorated the outburst made her, and feels a pang of guilt in her side. Her eyes soften, and she drops her tense shoulders. In a softer voice she starts, “Root-“

The sound of gunfire cuts her off, and instantly she raises her gun. Root is a second behind. Shaw turns her face swiftly away from Root’s, the obvious hurt in her eyes overwhelming. The two walk forward, clicking their safeties off, as the heat of battle strikes.

From all sides, people scream and run past the two like a bevy of deer. They push through, the rounds of machine guns and maniacal laughter growing louder. They come to a clearing and see three men standing on the roofs of cars stopped in traffic, ski masks obstructing their features. The gun is being fired straight into the air, and three pigeons drop from the sky. The man halts his fire and pulls off his mask, a devilish smile playing on his dashing face.

"That’s our number." Shaw speaks aloud, with no reply from Root. "We here to shoot him or save him?" Still no reply. She takes a quick glance in Root’s direction, only to find no one is there. On hyper alert now, she scans the crowd of swarming people for her face. Suddenly, one of the gunmen spasms, then falls to the ground. Alarmed, the number and the second man turn towards the culprit, along with Shaw.

It’s Root. With both guns drawn, she wears a wicked smile and dark eyes. Shaw feels the steam rising from her body as she bristles with anger and alarm. The men raise their automatics to Root at the same time, and Shaw’s stomach drops.  _I can’t shoot both at the same time_. Raising her weapon to the nearest one, Shaw opens fire on the number, and he falls to the ground, his shot flying far over Root’s head. As he drops from the roof, Shaw has a perfect view of the last man raining bullets in Root’s direction, and a tuft of brown hair falling out of sight. Mind shifting to overdrive, she walks up to the car, grabs his ankle, and pulls. He falls, masked head hitting the car roof with a sickening thud, and large weapon clattering down the hood. She yanks again and he slips off the car and drops to the ground. Shaw rips off his mask, revealing another charming boy; blonde hair matted down with sweat; blue eyes wide in sudden fear. Winding up, Shaw hits him with one hard blow, his nose instantly spraying blood. His eyes roll as he falls unconscious.

Standing, Shaw sees that the entire city street has turned into an obliterated ghost town. The only sounds are the agonized moans of their shot number. Shaw looks over his way, breathing slightly labored, and watches him grip his leg- knee shot and ruined. Another bullet hole billows blood in his center mass, and he coughs with pain. Suddenly, Sameen is hit with one pounding thought:  _Root_.

She runs. Runs between cars and over abandoned brief cases to the last place she saw her.  _She’s such an idiot_ , Shaw thinks, not truly meaning it. Her thoughts are strewn with anxiety and worry; her heart thriving on the adrenaline in her veins. Finally, she skids to stop and looks between the back of a red Ford and the front of a silver Camry. Root sits, propped up against the car’s front, head laying against the cool surface. Her right hand is pressed to her right arm as a slow stream of blood oozes out between her fingers; her jacket sleeve is already soaked.

"What were you  _thinking_?!” Shaw rants, tearing off her jacket and kneeling beside Root. Root slowly pulls her head around to face Shaw, a bitter smile playing on her already paled face. Shaw rips the material of her jacket and  wraps Root’s wounded arm as she replies.

"Didn’t want to be pushed out of the way on this one." Her voice is weakened, etched with pain, but it’s not just the physical kind.

"Oh for God’s  _sake,_  Root,” she spits furiously, pulling Root to her feet. Root grimaces, but doesn’t say a word. From a short ways off, a siren wails. The two walk down a back alley, Shaw gripping Root’s right arm tight as she hauls her away from the scene.

_______________\ The Things We Don’t Mention /_____________

Once back at the station, Shaw whisks Root into the subway car and closes the door. Harold watches from the desk outside, trying to put together what is going on.

Shaw’s face is pulled tight in anger and worry as she tears through the drawers, and Root watches her, head lolling to the side. A small, hurt smile sits on her face as she watches Shaw, wondering what she ever did wrong. Finally, Shaw finds what she is looking for, and comes to sit beside Root with full hands.

Untying the make-shift bandage, she tugs Root’s jacket off, revealing toned muscle and a bloody mess. Taking a disinfectant wipe, Shaw cleans her arm, then uses a second to clean the wound.

Root winces, holding her stomach tight with the pain. “Do you have to do it so  _hard?_ " She asks as the antibacterial burns her open flesh.

"Yes, because I’m mad at you." Shaw replies stiffly, keeping her eyes trained on Root’s injury. She realizes for the first time just how concerned Shaw is. Sameen throws the wipe to the ground, then ruffles back through the first aid kit as Root sits in silence. Shaw wraps a white gauze-bandage around Root’s upper arm, then tapes the end of the bandage shut. Closing the kit, eyes away from Root, she says,

"It’s just a flesh wound; it’ll heal."

"Thank-"

"Change the dressings every three hours until the bleeding stops, then just twice a day until it heals."

"Okay, I-"

Shaw stands, walking away.

"Wait. Shaw!" She stops at Root’s words, and turns to face her. "I didn’t mean to get shot." She tells her, and Shaw gives a partially amused laugh.

"Do we ever?" She responds, and Root smiles. Sameen looks at her a moment, then sighs.

"I didn’t- I didn’t mean what I said earlier," She tells Root, putting the first aid kit down. Root merely gives her a sad smile.

"Yes. You did."

"Not like how it came out," she replies with a soft shake of her head, then she looks down. "I… know it happened; just hoping you’d forget."

"Forget  _that?_ " Root says with a surprised laugh. "How  _could_  I?” Shaw shrugs her shoulders, then comes back to sit beside Root.

"It was impulsive," Shaw admits, splaying her hands palm-up. "Wonderful, but impulsive." Root tries to hide her smile, but the effort is in vain. Her eyes sing.

"So, why did you say-"

"I didn’t want to talk about it." Shaw says, not meeting Root’s eyes.

"You need to learn to be less heartbreaking with your deflections." Root teases, and Shaw gives her an apologetic look.

"Anything I can do to redeem myself?" Shaw responds, only half joking.

Root looks around the car in thought, then stops, eyes on the ceiling. “You can… tell me what you  _did_  mean?” She offers, dropping her head to the side to look at Shaw. Her face is taut as she thinks of how to explain herself to Root.

"I didn’t want you to come with me, so I pushed you," Shaw starts slowly, and Root sits up a little straighter in interest. "But I wanted you to be safe, as well. And I wanted you out of my way because I needed to keep you," she stops, seeing the spark in Root’s eyes, " _all_  of you, safe.” Root gives a quaint smile, but says nothing. “I kissed you because… well why do normal people kiss before imminent death?” She asks sarcastically, and Root’s smile widens; she leans closer to Shaw.

"To tell them you love them?" She offers. Shaw looks away.

Root looks at her with fond eyes, and feels a surge in her heart when she sees the slight pink coming to Sameen’s cheeks. “Don’t worry, Sam,” Root tells her, and Shaw looks back to face her. “You’re secret’s safe with me.” Shaw gives her a lopsided smile. “ _Or…_ " Root starts, looking at her legs. She brings her gaze back up to Shaw’s questioning eyes with a smile. "I could kiss _you_  and make it even?”

Shaw gives a hearty laugh and stands. Holding out a hand for Root, she takes it and stands. “Maybe later.” she replies with a wink, and Root gives her a taken aback look, but her smile reaches ear to ear. Acknowledging Harold’s confused and worried countenance through the window, Shaw goes to open the door.

"If he asks," Shaw starts, looking back to Root. She stops when Root mimes my-lips-are-sealed. "Or we can go with that," Shaw replies with a coy smile, then she pushes open the subway door.


End file.
